CHAPTER IIITessibel Meets Waldstricker
The shanty door closed behind Tessibel, and her hand still on the knob, she hesitated a moment before starting for Mother Moll's. The girl had kept her promise of the year before, for every week she had caught and cleaned a mess of fish and carried them up the ravine to the woman's shanty. But today, Tess wanted to consult the seeress about Andy. She believed implicitly in the fortune-pot. Hadn't the old, old hag told her, long ago, when Daddy Skinner was in prison, that the state couldn't hurt him, and other things, too?
Turning into the lane up the hill, she met Sandy Letts carrying his drag and a great coil of rope.
"Hello, kid," he greeted her. "How air yer Daddy?"
He eased his load to the ground and straightened up, slowly stretched his mighty arms, and shrugged the stiffness out of his powerful shoulders. Sandy and his burden filled most of the path.
Tess, desiring to avoid contact with him, stopped a few paces away.
"Daddy ain't so well these days, Sandy," she answered. "His heart hurts 'im."
"Ain't that too bad?" the man sympathized. "But, then, brat, yer daddy ain't so young as he were once. Reckon he air not long fer this world. When yer Daddy croaks, what'll you do, Tess? Ye'll need a home. Ye ought to be gettin' a man."
The squatter'd stepped forward directly in front of her while he was urging his suit.
"My daddy ain't old an' he ain't goin' to die, uther," flared Tess, an angry light in her brown eyes. Oh, how she loathed and hated this fellow who blocked her way! "You shan't say such things about my daddy! I don't want any man but 'im." Noting his unshaven cheeks, loose hanging lips, the lips and his large irregular teeth discolored with tobacco, the girl drew back with agesture of instinctive repulsion. "I wouldn't take you anyway."
Instead of answering her, the squatter placed his great hands upon her shoulders, and holding her thus at arm's length, looked down at her. Her straight young figure, glowing face, and flaming eyes under the ruddy aureole of her hair made a picture of grace, beauty and passion that would have fascinated a more fastidious observer than Sandy Letts.
"God, girl, but ye air a beauty!" he cried, enraptured.
Tessibel's struggles to get away from the grip of the heavy hands aroused the evil passions of the man's nature into insistent activity.
"Here, brat, give yer man a kiss," he commanded, and at the words, his hands slipped from her shoulders, and his strong arms began to close around her body. His face was so close she had to force her hand in between his lips and hers. Then she made a desperate struggle. Rearing the red head backward, she succeeded only in freeing herself partially.
"You let me go, you Sandy!" she cried out sharply. "I'll tell my Daddy on you. Let me go!"
Then she went at him, kicking his shins with her feet, poking him with her knees, and gouging his eyes and digging his face with her nails. As well might Sandy try to make love to a cornered wildcat. He threw her from him, and Tess, springing up, uninjured, raced up the hill. Sandy's words, broken by fierce oaths, overtook her,
"You just wait! I'll tame ye yet, ye devilish brat, ye!"
At the top of the lane, Tess stopped to get breath. The familiar sounds of the early summer evening assailed her ears. The narrow lake shone in the clear light of the dying day like a broad strip of silver set in the bosom of the hills. Her eyes rejoiced in its calm beauty, and a feeling of peace and security grew in her thought.
Tess was about to cross the ravine when a step behind her caused her to turn. Ebenezer Waldstricker, riding whip in hand, was coming toward her. At hisunexpected appearance, the blood fled from her face, leaving her quite pale and trembling. This was the man who was seeking Andy Bishop as at one time Dominie Graves had sought her father. How lordly he seemed, looking down upon her unsmilingly from his great height. Arrogantly he surveyed her from head to foot.
"You're the little church singer, aren't you?" he questioned after a while.
Tess noticed with fascination that one corner of his mouth curled up as if smiling, while the other was rigidly drawn down. She'd never seen an expression just like that before.
"Yep," she murmured, dropping her lids.
"Where are you going?" asked the man, tersely.
Tess glanced about. She wanted to turn and run, anywhere to escape from the brilliant dark eyes and the unmatched lips.
"I were goin' to see Mother Moll," she stammered, slowly. "She lives over there in the gully." She hesitated, pointing to Moll's shack. "Sometimes she reads out of the fortune-pot fer me."
Waldstricker glanced first at the little hut, then back at Tess.
"You don't mean you have faith in witchcraft?" he ejaculated, incredulously. "Why, girl, that's positively against the Bible commandments."
"Air it? Well I swan!" She nodded her head as though digesting a new idea. "Anyway, Mother Moll always tells me the truth. She can see things comin' years and years."
Waldstricker contemplated the grave young face for an instant, noting involuntarily the abundance and beauty of the wind-blown hair. He turned about on the path.
"I shall go with you," he said.
Her desire to forbid the proposed visit, struggling with her awe of the powerful man at her side, confused her. She couldn't think clearly. She twisted her fingers into her red curls.
"I'd ruther ye wouldn't," she explained. "Ma Moll hates strangers worser'n she does the old nick!"
Waldstricker ignored the girl's speech except that the frown deepened on his brow.
"Nevertheless I'm going," he returned, sternly. "I can't realize that God-fearing men and women have such iniquity among them. Come on; I'll go with you!"
Tess would gladly have deferred her visit until another day, and returned home, but she feared he'd follow her there. Here was a man of whom she was heartily afraid, and as she dared not defy him, she obediently walked across the gully bridge, and hurried along the path.
Then she paused, looking at Mother Moll's shack, snuggled in a jut in the ravine. It was quite close now. Tess knew the witch was at home, for a thin line of smoke drifted zig-zag from the toppling chimney.
She looked back and found Waldstricker eyeing her. She noted both corners of his lips were down now.
"I came from Ithaca purposely to see you and your father," said he.
Tess was so startled she took two sudden steps backward.
"My daddy ain't very well!" she exclaimed, nervously. "He don't like strange folks comin' around, Daddy don't."
Waldstricker shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
"However, I must see him," he responded.
Tessibel felt a surging anger against this man. He had the same imperious bearing she remembered in Dominie Graves.
"What fer? What d'ye want to see Daddy fer?" Her voice was compelling.
"About a matter that may make him a lot of money," the man explained, pompously. "When may I come?"
She considered a moment before replying. This put a different face on the matter.
"Could ye come tomorrow?" she demanded finally.
"Yes, at two, then. Tell your father, please."
"All right," muttered Tess.
Waldstricker's whip cut a cluster of wild flowers and nipped clean the stems of their upraised heads.
"Oh!" cried Tess, sharply, hurt to the quick.
As if reading her thoughts, he retorted,"A flower hasn't a soul, so what does it matter?"
Tess turned tear-dimmed eyes from him to Mother Moll's shack. Shocked at his brutality, his arrogant cruelty to the flowers she cherished so tenderly left her dumb. That his statement was false, she knew. To her the flowers expressed Love's sweetness and beauty, but she couldn't explain her faith to this haughty, dictatorial millionaire at her side.
She was all of a tremble as she mounted the narrow shanty steps.
An aged voice croaked, "Come in," in response to her knock. Before pulling the latch string, Tessibel paused and said to Waldstricker,
"Wait a minute! I'll go first, an' tell Mother Moll you're here."
She crossed the threshold and saw the old woman swaying to and fro in a wooden rocker.
"It air Tessibel, Mother Moll," she said gently. "I want to see what's in the pot."
Mother Moll smiled a withered, joyous smile.
"Come in, my pretty," she clacked. "Yer Moll's allers glad to see yer shinin' eyes. Come in, my love."
Tess advanced into the kitchen.
"That duffer Waldstricker's come along with me," she told her in a low tone.
The old woman struggled to her feet with the aid of her cane. Her watery eyes glared at the tall man in the doorway, and he as angrily stared back at her. The woman hobbled two steps forward.
"If ye've come for me to tell ye somethin', it won't be nothin' very pleasant," she growled at him. "Git me the pot, brat, dear!"
Tessibel went to the grate and lifted the iron kettle from the fire. It was steaming hot, and she brought it over, placing it at the woman's feet.
"Set down," the hag commanded Waldstricker. "I'll tell ye what's doin' in the pot, an' then git out! I hate ye!"
Waldstricker, with the peculiar down twist of his mouth, glanced darkly at Tessibel, but the girl's unresponsive, serious face turned his attention again to the witch.
"You're a wicked old woman," he said grimly. "The county should care for such as you."
But Mother Moll did not catch his words. She was crooning over the pot inarticulately. The seams in the skin around her eyes netted together, almost closing the flaming red lids. Through the narrow slits she was following the steam as it rose and disappeared in the air. Then slowly her finger began to trace shadow outlines in and about the pot.
"Mister, I see ye crowin' like a barnyard cock," she croaked, "and ye think ye're awful smart and awful rich. An' so ye be, but some day—" She stopped, sank back, then looked again into the steaming kettle. "I see a wee leetle man like this—" She raised the cane beside her, and Waldstricker, startled, leaned nearer the ragged grey head. "I see ye huntin' the leetle man—like a dog hunts a rat."
"Yes, yes!" from Waldstricker, "and what else, woman?"
Lowering her stick again to the floor, Mother Moll rested her weight upon its crooked handle and for a time muttered over the pot with raven hoarseness.
"Ye think ye're smart, but ye ain't as smart as ye think ye air. The leetle man sets on yer head—"
The hag paused, cracked forth a gurgling scream, then proceeded. "He sets on yer head and lays on yer heart, an' with all yer money, ye can't find 'im."
"I will!" gritted Waldstricker through his teeth, now, in spite of himself, intensely interested in the old woman's revelations.
"Ye won't," rapped out the seeress. "Not till it air too late. I see—I see—" Lifting one hand, the bony old finger made rapid gyrations above the pot.
"What do you see?" burst forth the man impatiently.
"Hair," cried Mother Moll, swaying nearer him, "hair stranglin' yer throat till ye can't speak, curls weavin' round yer neck like a hangman's rope."
Waldstricker glanced backward at the squatter girl. She stood in rigid silence, listening intently. Her hair, copper-colored in the light from the window at her side, framed in its shining curls a face rapt and absorbed.Waldstricker leaned forward again, the better to see the rising steam wraiths.
"I see all ye love best sufferin'." Letting the cane fall clattering to the floor, Mother Moll continued, doubled-fists outstretched to the man before her. "I see the shadow of shame gathering about ye, I see a girl—a little girl—yer sister—holdin' out her hands pleadin' to some other man—" Again the aged voice trailed into that chattering laugh. "An' I air seein' somethin' else." The old woman rubbed the palms of her horny hands together and pitched forward on her toes. She lifted her shaking, wizened face and thrust it so near the man that he drew back with a rough ejaculation. Then smiling a wide, toothless smile, she laid her finger on her lips. Drawing it away again, she mumbled.
"Hair stranglin' 'em both, same as you, long curls like snakes stranglin' all of ye. God!what hair!"
Waldstricker, with flashing eyes, suddenly got to his feet.
"Come out of here," he ordered Tess, roughly. "That hateful hag! The hateful wicked old woman!"
A wild, exultant yell left Mother Moll's lips.
"Yep, get out o' here!" she shrieked. "Get out quick, both of ye! Yer lives'll twine like this, an' this, an' this." Tensely she locked together her bony fingers. "An' hair'll strangle ye, wretched man, an' may ye never breathe a fine breath after it touches yer proud throat!"
Moved by a kind of superstitious horror of the prophecies of the old witch, Waldstricker pushed her roughly aside, seized Tess by the arm and dragged her out of the house. On the path he let her go and stood transfixed, as though the length and abundance of the red curls, falling in disordered confusion to her hips, fascinated him. Then he lifted his great shoulders, and a tense breath slipped through his teeth.
"What an awful old woman!" he flung out disgusted. "If there's any power in law or money, I'll root her out of that shanty as I will the rest of her tribe."
Tess was thoroughly frightened. His ruthless roughness hurt her and his threats against Mother Moll and the squatters terrified her. Would he try and rootDaddy Skinner and herself from their shanty? No, he couldn't! He couldn't! Neither would his long, powerful hands place their grip upon the life of the dwarf. Mother Moll had said so, and she believed—oh, how she believed it!
Waldstricker started to speak again, but unable to bear longer the cruel corner-curl of his lips, Tess of the Storm Country turned and fled swift-footed away toward the lake. The man watched the flying figure bounding along toward the span of blue water. Then with another flip of his whip, which struck the heads from the flower stems, he wheeled about and walked swiftly up the hill.
"I WILL!" GRITTED WALDSTRICKER THROUGH HIS TEETH, IN SPITE OF HIMSELF, INTENSELY INTERESTED IN THE OLD WOMAN'S REVELATIONS"I WILL!" GRITTED WALDSTRICKER THROUGH HIS TEETH, IN SPITE OF HIMSELF, INTENSELY INTERESTED IN THE OLD WOMAN'S REVELATIONS
CHAPTER IVTess and Frederick
Tessibel left Waldstricker with but one idea buzzing in her active brain; to reach Daddy Skinner—to tell him all that had just happened. She fled around the mud cellar and opened the door with swift-coming breath. When she entered the kitchen, her father was seated on her cot. He raised his eyes and greeted her.
"Daddy," panted the girl, closing the door, "I jest seen Waldstricker an' he air a comin' down here tomorrow. I don't know what he wants, but Andy mustn't come out of the garret, not fer anythin'. An', Daddy!" She paused with a sudden sob, "He says he air a goin' to root Mother Moll off'n her place. But don't let 'im turn us out of our shanty, will ye, Daddy?"
"Nope," answered Skinner, grimly. "I ain't held it all these years to let it go now fer a duffer like him."
"An', Daddy dear," blurted Tess, "Mother Moll told old Waldstricker's fortune out of the pot, an' she says as how he ain't never goin' to git Andy back to Auburn till it air too late, even if he uses up all the money he air got. What d'ye think o' that?"
A little groan came from the garret. It no sooner fell on Tessibel's ears than she scurried, nimble-footed, up the ladder. Poking her head through the hole in the ceiling, she peered around. It was very dark, and even straining her eyes, she could see nothing.
"Andy!" she whispered. "Andy, dear!"
"I air here, kid," murmured the dwarf from a dark corner.
"Don't be worrin'," encouraged Tess, softly. "I air begun to love ye, Andy, an' you bet nobody durst touch ye. Whatever ye hear, be mum. Daddy and me'll take care of ye, an' God will too."
Later she left the shanty in deep thought, and by the time she had wended her way to the ragged rocks tomeet Frederick Graves, she had uttered many tense little prayers for the suffering dwarf in her attic.
These rocks were a bower of delight to the sentimental girl. It was here in the gloom that in every expression of nature Tess heard Frederick's voice; his clear tones came swiftly on the wings of the wind, in the sonorous clap of the chimes as they spread their chant over the lake.
She was now seated on a broad, grey rock-slab, bending slightly forward, listening for her lover's step.
"Frederick!" she breathed in delight as a tall form loomed from the shadowy path.
In another moment she felt herself gathered into strong arms, and for a while the boy and girl were silent in their mutual happiness. The lakeside was quiet except for the sound of the tumbling waves and the intermittent rumble of a train on the tracks above.
Now and then, far back in the forest, an owl whoo-whooed in croaking tones, and in a nearby tree a family of baby birds twittered continuously in their sleep.
All the daisies in the meadows, all the nodding buttercups in the fields, seemed to be blossoming in Tessibel's heart at one time. She was in Frederick's arms, and the whole world could offer her nothing more.
"Tessibel, my little love," began Frederick, between caresses, "you remember what I begged you to consent to early in the spring?"
Tess made a movement to sit up.
"Ye mean—?" she stammered, confused.
Frederick drew her close.
"I want you to marry me right away," he murmured, entreatingly.
The words were whispered in passionate sighing out of the darkness into her ear. Tess drew back a little.
"Right away?" she repeated, gulping. "What do ye mean by right away, darlin'?... Now?"
Again strong arms evidenced strong affection.
"Yes—now," answered Frederick, earnestly. "You must! You must!... I can't be happy unless you do—Oh, Tessibel! Won't you, Tess?"
Never had anything thrilled her as his halting insistence.
"An' Daddy Skinner—air he to know?" she stammered, chokingly.
"No, no!"
"An'—yer mother?"
"Well, not—not quite yet, dear."
Two slender hands covered a scarlet face, and tears trickled between tense fingers.
"Then I can't!" Tess caught her breath in a sob. "I jest can't! Oh, why couldn't Daddy know—an' yer mother, too?"
Frederick strained her against his breast.
"Because they can't—not yet," he whispered. "Not a soul must know. Just you and I, darling. It'll be all right, dear, and I need you more and more—every day."
The deepening tones in his voice frightened, while they thrilled her. She pressed him back to look into his eyes, but even through the growing gloom she could see the blue-veined lids were closed.
"Frederick," she murmured, drawing her face backward. "Frederick, let me tell ye somethin'. Everybody had ought to know when a girl gets married. Oh, they ought to know, so they ought. Daddy Skinner an' yer mother, too."
Then of a sudden she was attacked by a strange tugging in her own heart. She tried to free herself from his arms, but her resistance only made him the more determined to bend her to his wish. She had always been submissive, and he'd worshiped her for her womanly acquiescence to his will. Trembling fingers forced her face upward and hot lips sought and found hers. She shivered under the strong masculine pressure.
"Now listen to me, my love," he continued between fierce kisses. "Come with me tomorrow night, and we'll get married and—and—"
Tess was trying heroically to hold to the principle she knew was right, even though her heart directed otherwise.
"Not less'n I tell Daddy," she breathed back.
Her low denial served only to lock Frederick's arms more tightly around her.
"You've got to come and you mustn't tell him, either," he urged. "You mustn't!"
Succeeding at last in releasing herself, Tessibel sighed. She wanted to be firm with him, to impress lovingly upon him her reason for refusing him; but when he reached forth and folded her again in his arms, that fine firmness gave way. She burst into wild weeping, holding him close as he held her, trying through broken sobs to tell him what was burdening her heart.
"It air like this, dear," she wailed, dismally. "Oh, I want to marry ye more'n anything, but I've never deceived Daddy a bit in all my life. I never done nothin' less'n I told 'im, and, Oh, I want to tell him, Frederick! I do want to tell 'im!"
Frederick hadn't anticipated this resistance on Tessibel's part.
"Tess," he said, almost angrily, "I wouldn't ask you to do anything wrong." Then softening, he pleaded accusingly, "You don't love me well enough to be my wife."
"It'd be wicked," whispered Tess, falteringly.
"It would be right!" cried Frederick, in quick contradiction. "Tess, you will, you will!"
The red curls shook slowly a mute negation.
"I don't believe you love me at all," groaned Frederick. Then taking a long breath, "You want me to be unhappy, I know you do."
She lay limply in his arms while through the sensitive, honest mind raced all the objections against his desire. There were his powerful friends—his college—his—
"Yer mother—don't want ye to marry me," she cried, suffering.
"I know it," returned Frederick, promptly. "Still a man can'talwaysplease his mother. Why, darling, what kind of a world would this be if mothers picked out their sons' wives? A poor place! I can tell you."
"But yer mother air awful good and loves ye just like Daddy loves me," argued Tessibel, "an' when ye don't do right, everything goes wrong. If Daddy Skinner ain't to know—"
"Nor anybody else," cut in the boy, growing moodyafter his sharp retort. "I won't have any one know about it. Tessibel, I want this more than anything else in the world. I love you—I love you, and you love me. Then why not? You do love me, don't you?"
"That air why—I do what—ye want me to, I s'pose."
And as the halting words fell from her lips, the student crushed her to him.
"I want you, dear," he breathed warm in her ear, "and it won't have to be a secret over a year, not much over a year, darling, and I'll——I'll——Oh! You will, Tessibel? You will?"
"Frederick!" she acquiesced, weakly. "Oh, Frederick darlin'!"
And for some time after her sudden consent, they sat on the rocks close in spirit—close in thrilling nearness. Perhaps twenty minutes later, Tess drew from the boy's arms.
"Daddy air callin' me," she said, softly.
And she went back to the shanty with the words, "I'm goin' to be married tomorrow," ringing in her heart.
CHAPTER VA Gossip With "Satisfied"
The next day, directly after the midday meal, Tessibel went to see Mrs. Longman, whose triple tragedy had made the woman an invalid, with broken nerves and useless hands. Every few days since the drowning of Myra Longman and Ben Letts and the baby, the squatter girl had carried to the sick woman some little offering to gladden her lonely existence. As Tess walked along the rocks, the image of Frederick Graves persistently pervaded her thoughts. Before the going down of another sun he would be her husband. Of course, just now she couldn't leave Daddy Skinner and Andy Bishop, but by the time Frederick had a home ready, Andy would be free from the charge of murder, and Daddy would live with them.
Tess never paused on the rocks between her home and the Longman shanty that she did not think of Myra, and thinking of Myra brought the vision of Teola Graves. A lonely little heart twist followed for the dead baby who had been born in her hut. This day she did not hesitate as long as usual. She must return quickly to Daddy Skinner and help keep guard over Andy Bishop. Waldstricker was coming at two o'clock!
Rounding the lake point, on which stood the hut of her squatter friends, she spied "Satisfied" seated on the bench near the doorway. Tess waved her hand, and the old fisherman signaled in return.
"Ma thought ye'd be comin' soon, brat," was Longman's greeting.
"I air brung her some salt-risin' bread," Tess announced, sitting down beside the fisherman.
Longman moved his pipe to one corner of his mouth.
"It air good o' ye, Tess," he thanked her, puffing. "Me an' ma air lonesome—me an' ma air."
Tessibel touched him with affectionate assurance.
"I love ye, an' Mammy Longman, too," she smiled. "I air glad to bring somethin' when I can."
For a few moments they sat quietly, the man smoking his pipe. Then he slowly knocked the ashes from its bowl, giving it a final rap in the hollow of his hand.
"Every day me an' ma miss Myry an' Ezry more," said he, stolidly. "Us uns just plumb lately made up our minds both them kids was too good to live, but us uns'd be awful satisfied to know if they air happy."
Tessibel brightened. She flashed a radiant smile at the sad-faced man.
"Sure, they be happy!" she ejaculated. "Everybody air happy in Heaven; Ben Letts air a singin' 'round the throne jest the same's the rest of 'em air."
In open disbelief Longman slowly shook his head.
"Myry never could sing—Myry couldn't," he answered, moodily, and his voice sank on the last two words.
Tess knew that, too, for she had heard the young mother try many times to quiet the brat with the uneven, discordant tones of her voice; but she knew, too, the great difference between Heaven and earth. She gazed out over the lake dreamily.
"But ye see, 'Satisfied' darlin'—" she began.
"An' once, when Ben were soused," interrupted Longman, hoarsely, "I heard 'im singin', 'Did ye ever go into an Irishman's shanty?' It were more like a frog croakin' than a man singin'."
"But folks don't never get soused in Heaven," Tessibel imparted, reverently, "an' they got a mess o' angels up there—" She looked upward, a solemn expression on her young face—"angels what Jesus keeps jest to learn folks how to sing. The brat's singin' too, as much as a little kid can, 'Satisfied'."
She edged a little nearer and slipped an arm around the fisherman's shoulders.
"It air just like this, honey, down here there air such a lot of work jest to get fish an' beans. Up in Heaven they don't do nothin' but dance around the throne an' sing all day. So everybody's got to learn how or he wouldn't have nothin' to do."
"Well, I swan!" ejaculated "Satisfied," smiling wryly."Will ye tell ma about it like ye did me, Tessie? Ma air been worryin' fearin' Myry weren't comf'table."
Tess bobbed her curly head.
"I'll tell 'er in a minute," she assured him; "but, 'Satisfied,' I were a goin' to ask ye somethin'."
Longman nodded.
"An' I were goin' to ask you somethin' too, brat," he said. "How air the singin' goin' in church?"
Tessibel sparkled like the morning dew.
"Oh, it air goin' fine, 'Satisfied.' I love it more'n more. Miss Young helps me with my songs an' she's learnin' me to sew, too. Why, I git my five dollars every Sunday jest as reg'lar as Sunday comes. I ain't never knew how far a fiver could go afore. We won't be needin' nothin' this winter, Daddy and me won't, dear."
She gave a delicious giggle to which Longman added a chuckle.
"That air good, brat," he replied. "There ain't nothin' like home comfort in this world."
"An' ye see, 'Satisfied,' I ain't lettin' my Daddy fish much now, only 'nough fer us an' fer Professor Young an' Ma Moll.... Daddy ain't very well."
"He air gettin' old," sighed Longman, taking up his pipe.
"No, he ain't," contradicted Tessibel, quickly. "He air got somethin' the matter with 'is heart. Mr. Young had a doctor fer him, an' he says he mustn't work. Now I got my singin' he don't have to.... Why, 'Satisfied,' I air savin' 'nough money to get a new bed an' a overcoat for Daddy. A bran new overcoat, too! Nothin' second-hand, ye bet! He ain't goin' to git no cold this winter, bless 'im!"
Longman allowed one of his thin arms to fall around the straight young figure.
"That air nice, Tessie," he returned admiringly. "Ye be a pert brat, you be!"
Tess paused a moment or two.
"'Satisfied,'" she hesitated, going back mentally to her former unspoken query, "do ye know the Waldstrickers?"
Longman nodded.
"I knowed the old man who was murdered—young Eb's father. Made some stir in town when he got shot!"
"Eb's been home quite a while now," observed Tess thoughtfully.
Longman's head and shoulders moved several times in affirmation.
"So ma read out'n the paper," he then said, "an' Bishop's lit out from the coop, too, ain't he?... Funny how he done it!... Bigger men'n him stay there all their days.... They'll find 'im, though, them prison folks will, poor little duffer!"
Tess caught the sympathy in the squatter's voice.
"I air hopin' they don't," she sighed quickly.
An inquisitive, almost furtive expression shot into the fisherman's face.
"When ye goin' to git married, Tess?" he hesitated.
Tessibel shook her red curls, flushing.
"Oh, I ain't knowin' jest the time yet," she parried. "Ye know, 'Satisfied,'—"
"Don't ye ever see much of the student nowadays, eh?" the squatter cut in.
Because of its sudden palpitation, Tess laid her hand over her heart. Oh, if she could only tell her old friend that that very night she'd belong to Frederick forever! Passion leapt alive into her eyes, and her cheeks flushed.
"I air a lovin' him, 'Satisfied,'" she murmured.
Longman made a nervous movement with one hand and shook his head.
"Tess, I been goin' to tell ye somethin' fer a long time," he stammered, almost inaudibly. "Ye won't git miffed with a old friend, will ye?"
"Sure not, 'Satisfied'," asserted Tess, gently.
"It air 'bout Student Graves," explained Longman.
A glint of gold flashed from under her lowered lids and a slow, deep scarlet ran in waves upward from her chin.
"What 'bout the student?" she demanded, dropping again to the bench and placing the basket at her feet.
The squatter looked down. It was hard to say what he must with the young face so confidently questioning.
"He air a goin' round with a nuther girl," he barked presently. "I been hearin' an' so air ma—"
Tessibel rose, startled, and once more took up the basket. Some gossiping tongue had been reviling her dear one.
"It air a big lie, 'Satisfied'," she uttered breathlessly. "I don't want to hear nothin' against 'im uther. What tongue told ye that only wanted to make ye feel sad fer me." She paused, then turned, but whirled back. "When ye love a person an' love 'im hard, lies told about 'im don't set well. Ye know they don't, Daddy Longman."
"Sure, I know it," replied the squatter, in quick-spoken sympathy. "Only ma and me thought as how ye ought to know the things we heard."
Tess was standing rigid, gazing stormily defiant into the weather-beaten old face. Wasn't she going to be married to the student that night! And how many, many times Frederick had told her he loved but her; that no other woman could ever take her place!
"I ain't goin' to believe it, if the hull hellish world tells me so," she flashed forth tempestuously. "Now I air goin' to give the bread to Mammy Longman, 'Satisfied'."
Longman stayed her with a word.
"Ye ain't mad at me, brat, be ye?"
Tess stretched forth impetuous fingers.
"Nope, only I love the student, that air all! An', 'Satisfied,' I air a cussed brat to be swearin' when Frederick says as how it air wicked. I keep forgettin' when I git mad."
The squatter sighed, making a quick shake of his head and several weird clicks with his tongue. Moodily he watched the bounding youthful figure until it disappeared through the shanty doorway. Fully ten minutes passed before Tess reappeared.
"Ma were satisfied with the bread, eh, brat?" asked Longman, in a cuddling tone. "Ain't she likin' it, honey?"
Tessibel choked suddenly. There was something in the quavering tones of the old fisherman, of the lonely,bereaved old man, that saddened her loving heart. She went to him and touched him impulsively.
"Yep, she liked it, 'Satisfied'," she murmured, "an' I told 'er all about the singin' in Heaven. She hadn't thought Ben Letts might be there with Myry an' the brat.... Most folks ain't knowin' how awful long the forgivin' arm of Jesus air."
And kissing the old squatter once more, Tessibel started homeward.
CHAPTER VIWaldstricker Makes a Proposal
While Tess was making her call at Longman's, Helen Young was entertaining her fiance, Ebenezer Waldstricker.
"I shall never be satisfied until Bishop is back in Auburn, Helen," said he, snipping the end from a long cigar.
The girl held up her needle and deftly shot the thread through the eye of it.
"He's sure to be, dear," she soothed. "Here's Deforrest!" She hesitated, laid down her work and stood up.
Professor Young shook hands with Waldstricker as his sister went to his side smilingly.
"Ebenezer wants me to go down to Skinner's with him," she explained. "Won't you come along, too, Forrie?"
The lawyer threw an interrogative glance at the churchman.
"Certainly," he answered. "Why? Anything particular?"
The question was asked of Waldstricker, who lifted his shoulder with a long breath.
"Yes," he replied. "I've a little plan to get hold of Bishop! I'm certain sooner or later he'll land back here among his own people. If I can whet their appetites with money, they'll turn him over the moment he appears."
"No doubt," observed Young. "But the Skinners—What have the Skinners to do with him?"
Waldstricker thought a moment, inhaling the smoke the while.
"The girl, Tessibel, who sings at church might be of great assistance to me," he said presently.
"How?" interjected Deforrest.
"Why, she goes among the squatters daily and would be likely to know if Bishop sneaked into any of their huts. If I can interest her in the reward—I've an idea she'll be of service to me."
"Perhaps," responded Young, in a meditative manner.
Waldstricker looked at Helen smilingly. "I think I started to give you an account of what happened yesterday," he said. "Did I tell you I came to see you, dear?"
Helen sat down and resumed her work.
"Yes, Ebenezer, but I was out!" she smilingly nodded. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known, I wouldn't have gone to town!"
"It didn't matter at all." Then he laughed, coloring a little. "Of course, I always hate missing you."
A loving look passed between the two, and Waldstricker proceeded, "But as long as I was here, I thought I'd speak to Skinner. On the way down the hill I met his daughter coming up. Rather startling personality, that girl! But she's woefully ignorant!"
"She hasn't had much chance, poor little thing," excused Helen. "She really has a beautiful voice, though."
"So I've noticed on Sundays."
"And she studies every minute," Professor Young thrust in, "and is so eager to learn; she's advanced amazingly!" He laughed in a reminiscent manner.
"One day," he proceeded, much amused, "she ran up the hill after me. I didn't notice her until she was at my side, all out of breath. 'Well, some little girl's been running,' I said."
"I want to learn things," she panted.
"Then I asked, 'What things?' and she answered, 'Oh, all about readin' and writin' and the things big rich folks know. If I had books, I'd learn 'em too.' ... Naturally I bought the books."
"Naturally," laughed Waldstricker.
"Well, I stopped to ask where she was going and if her father was at home. Then she told me that she was on her way to a seeress, Mother Moll, she called her, wasn't it?"
"Yes," assented Young, nodding his head. "The old woman lives on the north side of the gully."
Waldstricker bent forward and pursued. "I went into the hut with the girl." He stopped and his lip took an upward curve. "The old hag tells fortunes from a pot, a steaming pot full of boiling water, I think."
Here he turned suddenly on Deforrest. "That's got to stop, Young. It's against the Bible, prophesying and the like."
"She's really a harmless old thing, though," replied the lawyer sententiously, "and every squatter on Cayuga Lake loves her. Believe me, Eb, she's absolutely harmless."
"Not harmless if she's disobeying God's law," contradicted Waldstricker, seriously. "Isn't there some way by which she can be turned out of the shack?"
Deforrest shook his head. "Not that I know of as long as she holds her squatter rights. Her people take care of her, and she tells their fortunes to pay for food." He broke off the explanation, only to take it up again, "No, there isn't any way to oust her. Frederick Graves' father tried to get the Skinners off, but failed."
"Oh, I didn't know," observed Waldstricker. "I must have been away at the time." He drew out his watch and looked at it. "Shall we go on down, Helen? It's a little early. I told the girl I'd come at two, but a half an hour doesn't matter.... I can't rest until I get hold of that dwarf."
During the interval in which Helen went for her garden hat, Waldstricker said to Deforrest,
"I may need you, Young, in this Bishop case. I'm privileged to call upon you, of course?"
"I'll do anything I can, Ebenezer," agreed Young.
So it happened that when Tess rounded the mud cellar, she glanced up the hill and saw the three making their way leisurely toward the lake. She gave one bound and literally hurled herself through the shanty door into the kitchen.
"Walderstricker air comin!" she hissed through herteeth in quivering excitement. "Scoot under the tick, Andy! An', Daddy, get on my cot, an' don't say no word less'n they ask ye something face to face.... Let me do the talkin'."
She had no more than settled her father on the cot and heard the last of the dwarf's burrowing in the attic when a long shadow fell across the threshold. Stepping forward, she met Deforrest Young, who held out his hand to her.
She greeted her friend with a dubious smile, and taking his hand, bowed awkwardly to his sister. In her confusion she ignored Waldstricker entirely. Their presence in the squatter's hut was so portentous and the time for the preparations to receive them so short, Tessibel's wits almost deserted her.
"Come in, all of ye," she stammered, at last, and stepped backward across the uneven kitchen floor toward the cot at the further side of the room.
Then she placed chairs for them, and when all were seated, settled herself on the floor near Daddy Skinner, and shaking her curls back from her face, looked with grave brown eyes from one to the other of the ominous group.
"I'm very glad to see you, Tessibel," said Helen graciously.
"I air awful glad to see you, too, Ma'am," returned Tess, still embarrassed.
Miss Young smiled toward Ebenezer, then back at the girl.
"You remember Mr. Waldstricker, don't you, Tess, dear?"
Tessibel allowed her gaze to rest on the elder. Of course she remembered him. What did he desire of Daddy Skinner? That was all she wanted to know.
"Yep," she answered, more calmly. "I remember 'im, sure I do! He—"
Waldstricker interrupted her with a quick interrogation.
"We had a little meeting yesterday, didn't we, Miss Tessibel? You didn't wait for me to tell you what I wanted." He delivered this most affably, and Tess counted him very handsome, indeed, when both cornersof his mouth went up, but she knew that other trick of those lips. Not knowing how to explain her flight, she kept silent. Deforrest noted the shadow that clouded the lovely face and ascribed it to embarrassment. Thinking to put her at her ease, he asked,
"Have you been studying today, my dear?"
"Well I guess I have!" The girl sent him a radiant, grateful smile. "I studies every day, an' air learnin' my Daddy a lot of things now, ain't I, Daddy?" She looked backward at the man on the cot as she asked the last question.
"Yep," affirmed Skinner, faintly.
"Daddy air sick," she explained. "You'll be excusin' 'im if he don't talk. I'll do all the gabbin' if ye don't mind."
Tessibel had regained her self-control. She knew that Waldstricker's presence meant danger to her loved ones, Daddy and Andy Bishop. In their defense, eager to hinder him, her quick thought sought his purpose in coming to the shack. Could it be about Mother Moll, she wondered. She would ask him. Looking up at Waldstricker, she addressed him timidly,
"I hope, sir, ye ain't mad at Mother Moll any more?"
Waldstricker, intent upon his idea of interesting her in the search for his father's murderer, waived her question aside. He would attend to the witch and her fantastic mummeries later.
"Never mind the old woman now," he began pompously. "I came here today on purpose to see you about another matter."
Why, yesterday he had said he wanted to talk to Daddy; now today he wanted to speak to her. She sat up a little straighter, each shoulder carrying its load of red curls, the ends of which lay in a bronze tangle.
"I'd do anything I could," she answered shyly, a lovely red dyeing her face.
"I knew you would! Mr. Young has told me how anxious you are to learn and to improve your condition.... Isn't that so?"
Tess nodded, looking from the speaker to Deforrest, who threw her his ever-ready smile. Her gaze returned to the churchman and he continued,
"Now, I've a plan which, if it succeeds, will give you lots of money! You could do almost anything you'd want to then."
Tess didn't move, only stared back at the handsome, swarthy face incredulously.
"I couldn't earn much," she ventured, gulping. "I get five bucks every Sunday fer singin' at the church, but—"
"Oh, I don't mean a few dollars," Waldstricker told her. "I was talking about a lot—thousands."
Daddy Skinner straightened out on the cot and Tess tried to swallow, but couldn't. She knew now that he referred to the reward for Andy.
"Lordy massy!" she got out at last, huskily.
Deforrest Young coughed, and Waldstricker's hand went quickly to his face.
"I'll explain about it," he said, "and then you can decide if you wish to do it."
"All right," replied Tess, leaning her chin on her hand. "Gowan an' blat it out."
"I suppose you know my good old father was murdered," the visitor asked her after a slight period of silence on his part.
Andy and what he had told her about the brawl in the saloon raced through Tessibel's mind.
"I heard 'bout it," she replied, nodding.
"And you've heard, too, probably, the man who murdered him escaped from Auburn a little while ago?"
Tess wanted to say "No," but she feared a long explanation would follow which might trouble Daddy and the wee man in the garret, so she acquiesced by bowing her head. "I guess he were the man Daddy were talkin' 'bout, weren't he, Daddy?"
She turned toward her father, but his red lids were closed, and he was breathing heavily.
"Daddy goes to sleep awful easy!" she excused to all three. Then she told Waldstricker, "Yep, Daddy said the man broke out o' jail."
The man she spoke to looked keenly at her.
"The officers feel pretty sure he'll make his way down the lake side," he explained, "eventually landing among his own people."
A flash of the brown eyes and a quick stiffening of the supple body under the red curls expressed the girl's resentment at the slur implied in the speaker's statement.
"Among us squatters, I s'pose ye mean?" demanded Tess, belligerently.
"Yes," nodded the elder, with a contemptuous smile at the angry young face.
Tess hated that tone in people's voices when they talked about squatters.
"And I was wondering if you wouldn't like to earn the reward offered for Bishop's capture," Waldstricker finished abruptly.
Tessibel's foresight had discounted the effect of this announcement. To save Andy, she must deceive Waldstricker and persuade him to leave the search of the Silent City in her hands. Her brown eyes were bright with her purpose; she smiled slowly up at him showing every white tooth.
"You bet I would!" she exclaimed, shaking her curls as she tossed her head. "How much air it, huh?"
"Five thousand dollars," replied Waldstricker.
"Jeedy!" gasped Tess. "That air a pile of money. I bet I earn it!... What'd ye bet?"
She turned impetuously to Deforrest Young, and he laughed.
"I hope you may!" was all he said.
Tess was all eagerness now, her cheeks flaming and her eyes dancing.
"But I wouldn't know the man if I seen 'im in any of the squatter's huts, huh?"
She flung this at Waldstricker, more of a question than a statement.
"He's a dwarf," he answered immediately, "and very small—like this. Sandy Letts knows him and is looking for him, too."
At his statement, Tessibel's quick imagination pictured Sandy's brutal face and greedy eyes, and for a moment her flaming courage almost faltered.
"If a dwarf sneaks down here," she observed with a sweep of her hand toward the door, "I'd get 'im easy. I know everybody."
"But would I have to halve up with Sandy, eh?" she continued, as though struck with a new thought.
"Not unless Sandy helped you find him," Ebenezer replied genially. "You could do as you pleased about that."
"Oh, Sandy couldn't help me, not a bit," Tess argued earnestly. "Sandy ain't liked any too well 'round here."
"Well, manage it as you choose."
Waldstricker smiled at his success with the girl. "I don't care for Sandy myself," he continued. "All I want is to get Andy Bishop." His face hardened with hate as he pronounced the dwarf's name.
Tess put her hands under the curls over each shoulder and drew them together beneath her chin.
"Five thousand dollars!" she ruminated. "I'd have a bully time a spendin' it, wouldn't I?... I'd buy my Daddy a new overcoat every day fer a year, an' I'd git 'im four new beds—one fer every corner of this here kitchen, an' I'd git 'im a flannel shirt thick as a board to keep the pains from 'is bones.... Then, I'd buy me a cow an' a calf an' a horse an' a little baby pig an' a few cats an' a lot of dogs, an' I'd let all the squatter brats play in my flower garden—"
Helen broke off this chatter with an amused laugh.
"Then mebbe I'd go to school a while," Tess kept on, "an' learn myself a lot out o' books, an' after that I'd take singin' lessons an' I'd sing to everybody what asked me—Then mebbe—" She dropped back for lack of words. "I wonder if that'd take the hull of the five thousand."
Waldstricker stood up.
"You've got the right idea of spending money," he laughed. "And now, young lady, we'll leave you, and if you hear that this dwarf is in any of your friends' huts, you let me know, and I'll come right down."
"Sure," said Tess, heartily. "Ye bet I will."
Scrambling to her feet, she lifted the ruddy curls and flung them back on her shoulders. To Ebenezer, watching her, came like a haunting memory the witch's cry, "Hair, stranglin' ye—God, what hair!"
But he dismissed the suggestion easily and turned to Helen, smiling.
"Why not bring Miss Skinner to the next musicale and have her sing?... Wouldn't you like that, Tess?"
"I'd get scared stiff," gasped Tessibel, terrified.
"But, Tess, dear," Helen thrust in, "I'd teach you the songs, and—"
The girl was looking down upon her dress, her face gathering a deep red.
Miss Young divined what was going on in the girlish mind.
"And I'd help you make a new dress," she went on.
"A hull lot of money folks'd be there, eh?" Tess demanded. Oh, how afraid she always was of a crowd of those—different people!
Her words directed Waldstricker's attention to the contrast between this squatter girl in the bare shack and the fashionable folk who'd throng his spacious drawing room.
"Well, a few," he answered, "but you come along with Miss Young just the same, will you?"
Tessibel took the outstretched hand awkwardly enough and as quickly dropped it and began to fumble with her own fingers. She looked down at the floor while she traced a line on it with her toe.
"Mebbe," she replied in a very subdued voice.
She stood in the door and watched them walk slowly up the hill. Then she turned back into the kitchen.
"My God, brat!" sobbed a voice through the hole in the ceiling. "Wasn't that a nice list of beautiful things ye was goin' to buy? Oh, kid, I air bettin' Waldstricker gits me."
Tess chuckled low, as she turned her face upward.
"Andy," she said, "ye needn't be worryin' 'bout me an' Jesus handin' ye over to that old elder. Why, Him an' me air goin' to stick to you like pitch to a nigger."
She turned to go, but hearing a sigh, took four steps up the ladder and finished,
"Why, honey, Waldstricker air got as much chance a ketchin' you as a tallow dog has chasin' an asbestos cat through hell."